FEA: Pyromania
by guardsmansparky
Summary: When a closeted pyromaniac finds himself in Ylisse, he decides to just set fire to everything that moves. First Self insert. SI, T for cussing and some sexual comments.
1. Where am I?

Okay, so, I'm not quite sure where, or when, I am. One moment, I'm at college, getting blind drunk because I bombed a term paper and am likely to fail out, and the next, I am waking up in a field in the middle of nowhere with only a t-shirt, a windbreaker, jeans, combat boots, and a rusty hatchet. I'm not even sure where the heck I got the combat boots or the hatchet, because I know for a fact that I don't own any, much less how I got into a field in the middle of nowhere. For that matter, I don't even think I'm in the same state; otherwise, I'd be freezing my buns off right now. Seriously, autumn in the mountains is cold. For real.

Standing up, I think I see a town, over there. Just one problem: the architecture is…am I in Europe? How the hell am I in Europe? I don't even have a passport! Well, I do, but it's in the safe at home. How the…? You know what, I'm just going to go find a bar and get a drink. Hopefully someone speaks English. Heck, I'd settle for German.

* * *

><p>I finally reach the town, only to discover that everyone is dressed in linens and leathers. Did I go back in time or something? Fortunately, they all speak English. Eventually, I managed to find a tavern and went in for a drink.<p>

So, somehow, I had the money to pay for my beer, finding these weird gold coins in my pocket. I still haven't worked up the courage to ask anybody where I am. It's just too embarrassing, to say that I went out, got drunk, and now have no clue as to where I am. Even if it's true.

Anyways, I'm sitting there, nursing my bottle, when this guy comes bursting in. "Bandits!"

Guy then falls over with an ax in his back. Ew. So, there everyone in the bar is, staring dumbly at the poor dead schmuck, when one of said bandits strides in. Everyone bolts. All but me, no, I'm too busy gawking like an idiot at the man in bearskins with a skull on his head. It looks familiar…

Oh GOD, I am in Fire Freaking Emblem! Ohgodohgodohgod, what am I going to do!? I can't use a sword, can't use a lance, I sure as hell can't do magic! I can throw my hatchet, but that's about it, and I know how to shoot a bow, but only at stationary targets! Oh God I'm so screwed!

Of course, this whole time, I've been staring at the bandit in front of me, gawking like an idiot. Oh dear God, he's seen me! He's coming over! _What do I do?_

"Oy, youse thinks you're a tough guy, doncha?" Oh God he's talking to me! He sneers and brandishes his ax menacingly. "Lemme show yas what we does to tough guys around here."

OHGOD, he's going to kill me. What do I do? I have a hatchet! No, that won't work; look at the size of the thing he's carrying! It's bigger than my head! Oh look, there's a poker in the fire. Okay, um, smash bottle over head and hit him with red-hot poker. That can work!

I carry out my plan, smashing the bottle on his face, sending him staggering back. I lunge for the fire poker. I pick it up and turn around. Oh, geez he looks mad!

"I'm gonna gut chew fer that!" Oh no, please don't!

Panicking, I lash out with the red hot poker. Oh, look he's on fire.

…

HOLY SHIT HE'S ON FIRE!

Oh yeah, alcohol's flammable, isn't it? Wait, holy shit I just lit someone on fire! I…don't really feel that bad about it. Does that make me a bad person? Actually, now that I come to think of it, I haven't killed a person, I killed a lowlife who would kill without a single second thought. Maybe I have underlying sociopathic tendencies or something. I don't know, I'm not a psychologist. Oh boy, my head is seriously messed up.

Oh, wait, there are people screaming outside. Ok, I could run now, or I could go and help people. I look to the backdoor.

"Mommy!"

Ah shit, little kid. Gah, I'm going to get myself killed aren't I? Okay, think, what to do, what to do? I look at the bar. Lots of bottles. Lots of alcohol. Hmmm. Molotov Cocktails anybody? Well, I suppose I could let my inner pyromaniac go nuts, just this once.

I stuff my pockets with as many bottles as I can, a rag stuffed into the mouth of each bottle. Now, I just need something to light them with. I look around.

There is a cigar in the ashtray. I did not know they had those here in Fire Emblem. I pick it up and look at it distastefully. I still remember accidentally pulling on a friend's old pipe for a Sherlock Holmes impression. Why am I doing this again? Oh, right, little kids, screaming, bandits, town, got it. I put the cigar between my teeth.

Ooh, peppermint!

I take stock of my little arsenal. Twelve Molotov Cocktails, with two in hand. One rusty hatchet that will probably just piss them off if I use it. Okay, just got to hope the bandits clump up. I step over the smoking corpse of the bandit I fried (who finally stopped thrashing and screaming) and step out the door. I am immediately met by a group of about five to six bandits.

One of them steps forward. "Hey look boys, here comes the serving boy to take our orders." The bandits guffaw.

Really. That's the best he could come up with? Well, let's see how they like this then. I light the Cocktail in my right hand on the cigar. "Yeah you guys looked thirsty. Here, have a drink." Oh God that was lame.

I throw the bottle like a baseball pitcher. It arcs beautifully and lands right before the leader's feet, spraying the group with burning alcohol. The only problem is, it's alcohol. It doesn't burn very hot, so it doesn't really bother them.

At least, not until their pants and boots catch fire. I leave them screaming as they try to put out their asses, cackling manically.

…

Okay, I've officially gone insane. Eh, oh well. I've always been a bit unhinged. Better to laugh than cry I suppose.

…Maybe I should just go find some more bunches of bandits to burn.

Ooh, alliteration!

* * *

><p>Three cocktails later, and I'm chasing after a group of panicking ruffians, cackling madly, when they run smack bang into a Great Knight in blue armor, who quickly dispatches the lot of them. Hey, I recognize that guy, it's Frederick! That means I am in Awakening.<p>

I look to my left at the cathedral and canals. This must be Southtown. Ooh! That must mean this is the prologue!

Oh, hey Frederick's coming over here, wonder what he wants. He's coming awfully fast.

…OH GOD HE'S TRYING TO KILL ME! PANIC!

"I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"

I dive under a convenient produce cart that hasn't been tipped over yet, somehow.

Frederick's horse stops in front of my refuge. "Come out so that I can see what color your blood is, villain!"

I yell back. "No! I'm not a bandit, damn it! I'm just a fire-happy traveler who doesn't like asshats!"

Silence. Well, sort of. There's still screaming.

"If you come out, I won't kill you."

Well, when you put it like that, how can I say no?

I pop out from under the cart opposite of Frederick. I look over the top carefully like a gopher out its hole. "Promise?"

Frederick rolls his eyes. "Yes. If you are truly not a bandit, you won't mind coming out into the open."

I come out from behind the cart, carefully. He's not called Frederick the wary for nothing. He looks at my attire in bafflement.

"What on Earth are you wearing? And for that matter, what are you carrying?"

I look affronted, I think. I can't really see my face. "My clothes. And these are Molotov Cocktails."

Frederick looks even more confused. "Pardon?"

I sigh. "Makeshift incendiary devices."

"I see." He looks over down the street. "Well, I can't very well leave you here." Frederick puts out a hand. "Get on."

I take the offered hand and—holy shit Freddy's strong! He just plopped me on his horse like it was nothing. And I ain't no featherweight, though I am working on that.

* * *

><p>I'd like to say that I helped Frederick with mopping up the rest of the bandits. Sadly, that would be a lie as I spent the rest of the skirmish holding on to Frederick for dear life. Hey, it was my first time on a horse, so sue me.<p>

Finally, the last of the bandits had been felled, and I was able to slide off of the horse. I don't know why, but for some reason, the blood and disemboweling had gotten to me a lot worse than the whole burning people alive bit.

Um…hold that thought.

…

Fortunately there was a trashcan on the side of the street. Not going to think about the anachronisms there.

It is at that moment that a blue-haired man with an asymmetrical outfit comes up. I look at the bare right arm. Yup, there's the mark of the Exalt, the teardrop with the spiky half-circle underneath, on the shoulder. I suppose that would be Chrom. Next to him is a blonde girl with a staff in a poufy yellow dress with a white apron and her hair in two ponytails on either side of her head. Must be Lissa. Not sure how to describe the white, lacy thing on her head, so I'm not going to even try. I look over at the last person to join us. Big, oversized purple trenchcoat covered in stylized eyes, white hair, huh, default female avatar. Who is covered in blood...I'm going to go throw up again, if you don't mind.

As I'm doing so, I hear Chrom speak to Frederick. "Hey, is he alright?"

"It is quite possibility nerves, milord. I nearly ran him down earlier in the belief that he was a bandit. I don't believe that he has ever been in battle before, as his choice of weapon was very unusual."

I pull my head out of the trashcan and croak out a declaration. "First fight. So much blood." Suddenly queasy again, I stuff my head back into the trashcan.

A calming blue light engulfs me, and suddenly, I don't feel nauseous anymore. I stand up and nod in thanks to Lissa as she lowers her staff. Chrom steps forward. "Thank you for your help with dealing with the bandits. I am Chrom, and this is my delicate sister, Lissa."

"Hey, stop calling me that!"

Ignoring he cutely fuming Lissa, Chrom motions to the avatar. "This is Robin. I believe you have already met Frederick the Wary."

Frederick smiles wanly. "A title I shall carry with pride."

Chrom smiles and turns back to me. "And what may we call you by, kind sir?"

I smile. "You can call me Sparky."

Lissa giggles. "That's a funny name."

Before Chrom or Frederick can chastise her, I shrug. "Hey, it's the name I chose for myself." Hey, I might be stuck in a self insert for all I know. There's no way I'm telling complete strangers on the internet my real name.

I look behind Lissa, and my blood runs cold as I see one of the bandits getting to his feet with iron ax in hand. Okay, I may not remember the details from the game, but I _know_ that this isn't canon. Shoving Lissa to the side, I grab the first thing to come to hand, my rusty hatchet. With no time to aim, I throw the small ax at the bandit. To my amazement, it hits him right between the eyes. Holy shit! I can't believe that just happened! I am so badass, I—why is my chest wet?

Oh, that's a lot of red.

…I think that I'm gonna stop…standing…now.

Ooh, hey, the dirt's kinda comfort…able…

…Just gonna…sleep…

**AN: Well, this is my first ever attempt at a self insert. Lemme know what everyone thinks.**


	2. A Rising Threat

…

"How's he…ng?"

"…stable enough. I just wish there weren't so many bugs around—oh! Ick! Yuck! Ptooey! One flew into my mouth!"

Groggily, I open my eyes to see Lissa standing over me as she has a freakout over a bug. While she's doing that, I think I should take stock of my situation. I am lying down at an angle, wrapped in furs. And somehow I'm moving. I look up. Horse butt. Okay, I'm on a stretcher being pulled by Frederick's horse. I look up at the sky. Night is just beginning to fall.

"Oh, yuck, I think I swallowed it!"

I look back at Lissa and open my mouth. "That is very unfortunate." Eugh, I sound awful.

Lissa jumps in surprise. "Oh, you're awake!" She leans over me as Frederick pulls his horse to a stop. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I took an ax to the chest." From the look on Lissa's face, it appears that that wasn't just a figure of speech. I struggle to sit up, only for Lissa to stop me with a light push on my shoulder.

"No, don't try to move just yet."

Grimacing at the pain and effort it took to get just a few inches off the stretcher, I lie back down. "Where are we?"

"Halfway from Southtown to the capitol." I look to my right to see Chrom standing there with Robin. Huh, I never even heard them coming. "Don't move around so much, or you'll reopen your wound. Lissa's a good healer, but your chest wound was severe enough that a Heal staff can only do so much." I rub the slightly soiled (with dried blood) bandages that have replaced my shirt under my windbreaker.

I lay there as Chrom helped Frederick detach the stretcher and lower it to the ground. Lissa fusses over me while Robin picks up sticks for firewood from around the clearing. After helping Chrom carry me over to a stump, I notice Frederick taking his lance with him into the darkening forest. Must be going to look for dinner.

As Chrom sets up a fire pit, Lissa and Robin help me to sit up against the stump before Robin goes to light the fire with a low-powered fireball. Huh, good use of a fire tome.

A loud roar echoed through the forest. I look over at my companions. Chrom looks unconcerned, Lissa looks somewhat put out, and…I can't tell what expression that is on Robin. Stupid inability to recognize social cues.

Before long, Frederick came back, a bear over his shoulder. A _bear_. Why the heck did he get a bear? "Frederick! Why couldn't you get something normal?" Wow, Lissa just voiced my thoughts perfectly.

I avert my eyes as Chrom helps Frederick gut and clean the body. I can't stand that sort of thing; heck I can't even clean a supermarket chicken without gagging every five seconds. Don't judge me.

Finally, the bear is on a spit over the fire. …And Lissa's complaining about how bear is always gamey. I look through my eight remaining Molotov Cocktails, that have been conveniently left with me, along with my used, peppermint flavor cigar. I think I have some brandy in here somewhere—aha! There we go. I remove the rag and hold up the bottle. "Hey Freddy! Why don't we have bear flambé? Might take care of the gameyness."

Frederick scowls. "I like that idea, but don't call me that." The knight takes the bottle and, after taking a tentative sip (what, does he think it's poisoned or something?) pours it over the roasting bear. Wow, I don't generally like brandy, but that smells _good_.

As we sit there waiting for the bear to finish roasting Chrom addresses me as he stares into the fire. "Sparky, I never got to thank you for saving my sister. Thank you."

Frederick nodded. "Yes, thank you. I am ashamed that someone got hurt because I did not perform my duties sufficiently."

"You saved my life!" Lissa gushed as Robin nodded.

I wave Lissa's thanks away. "And you saved mine. I'd say we're even."

Before silence could pervade the clearing campsite once more, Chrom spoke up again. "I don't think I've ever heard an accent like yours, Sparky. Where are you from?"

I scratch my chin. Huh, stubble, that's new. "Whelp, I'm not exactly from this realm."

Frederick eyed me warily. "So you say you came through the Outrealm Gate then? And which realm would that be?"

I shrug. "Eh, sort of. My world doesn't really _have_ its own Outrealm Gate, or a realm name. In fact, most people, me included before I came here, believed that the existence of other realms was only fiction, including this one." I can feel my face heating up as I continue. "I'm actually not sure how I got here. I went and got blind-ass drunk and somehow ended up in a field outside of Southtown with some local currency and clothes that weren't all mine."

I see Robin lean forward. "What is your realm like?"

"Well, we don't have magic, at least, not in a recognizable form for centuries, but we are vastly more advanced technologically, by a matter of several hundred years."

Robin looks awed. It's not really hard to imagine why; she is amnesiac after all. "That's amazing!"

I shake my head. "It can be at times, but at others, not really."

Robin snorts. "It can't be that bad."

I look at her. "What's the strongest spell known to this realm?"

Robin pulls up a blank as Lissa raises her hand with several "ooh, ooh"s. I look at her; is this elementary school or something? "The strongest spell known to man is the ancient and revered Mjölnir. It calls down a bolt of lightning that can wipe out an entire column of soldiers at once."

I sigh as I nod. "During the Second World War, thus named because the conflict spanned our entire world, my country created a device. From machines that flew higher than a Pegasus or a wyvern could, we dropped two of these devices onto two enemy cities in hopes of ending the war." I took a deep breath, while everyone leaned in closer. "When these devices activated, they each created a second sun. For a mile around the devices, everything was destroyed. For tens of miles around, you could see the outlines on still standing buildings where people had been turned to ash in a second. Thousands died." I can see the horrified looks on their faces. "It gets worse. We didn't know it at the time, but the devices left a poisonous energy in the air. So many people who had survived the explosion and the shockwaves after fell ill and died as their bodies basically fell apart and stopped working. Even now, some sixty years later, people are still getting sick from it."

Lissa pulled her hands away from covering her mouth. "Why would your people build such a thing?"

I shook my head, idly noting that Chrom and Robin were eying me warily as Frederick fingered the pommel of his sword. "It was a dark time. My country and several others were fighting against a terrible enemy who gave no quarter—to civilian or soldier—and fought fanatically for their Emperor. For them, they'd rather die 'honorably' than surrender. When we invaded one of their home islands, civilians, brainwashed into believing that we were cannibals and rapists, jumped off cliffs to their deaths in scores, rather than risk capture. When we made ready to invade their mainland, it was predicted that the death toll would be in the millions, on both sides. We used those devices in an attempt to avoid that: kill a thousand to save a million, as it were.

"In the end, it took the Emperor himself to step in and order his generals to surrender, not wishing his people to suffer anymore. Even then, some of his generals tried to overthrow him in a coup to continue fighting, even though it was clear that there could be no victory."

I sigh deeply. "Fortunately, that's the only time we ever used those devices in anger, for fear of what we'd do to our world. Even to this day, the use and existence of those devices is controversial and debated."

I look around the campfire. "I honestly hope that such a thing never has occasion to be created here."

We spent the rest of the evening in an awkward silence, eating our bear flambé before turning in for the night.

* * *

><p>Someone is trying to shake me awake. Whoever it is better quit it!<p>

They're not stopping. I open my eyes to give them a piece of my mind, only no one's there. Ok, it's just an earthquake then. I close my eyes and go back to sleep.

…

HOLY SHIT IT'S AN EARTHQUAKE!

Even worse, it's raining freaking FIRE and BRIMSTONE! What's next, a plague of locusts? The dead rising from the grave!?

I roll over and push myself upright. Whoa, okay, dizzy, world is spinning worse than it already was with the earthquake. Oh, lordy my chest hurts. I stagger over to Frederick while clutching my aching ribs and try to kick him awake. "Wake up you bastard before we all get killed!" Well, that woke Robin up, but Frederick's still out like a light. Shit. Oh, idea!

"WAKE UP FREDDY! CHROM AND LISSA ARE MISSING!"

He shoots upright. That did it. The only problem now is that he has me by the lapels of my windbreaker. My feet are no longer touching the ground. "Where are they? Where are the prince and princess?"

Holy crap, his breath is horrible, and I know for a fact that he didn't eat any bear meat last night. Oh, wait it still is last night. Back to me being lifted bodily by a frantic Freddy, I wave over at Chrom and Lissa's bedrolls. "They're over there! Right over by—!" I look over. "Holy crap, they really are missing!"

Setting me down none too gently (Ow, my ribs!), Frederick leaps onto his horse. "Quickly, we must find them!"

Clutching my aching ribs and chest, I decide to follow the heavily armed guy in armor. What's the worst that could happen?

I run after Frederick, only to be quickly outpaced by Robin. Let's face it, it's not that hard. I'm somewhere between the levels of big and healthy on the six levels of fatness of Gabriel Iglesias' Fluffy-o-meter. The recent chest wound doesn't particularly help my stamina either.

As I run through the smoldering forest, I see something that makes me come to a halt. Just above me, is what looks like a giant, floating blue eye. That is glowing. That's not ominous at all! And there's a bunch of them all over the place! Yeah, not good!

I turn around: something has just dropped out of said floating eye and landed right behind me. A bunch of guys stand up. Let's see: purple skin; red, glowing eyes; stitched together faces; purple-ish black smoke/goo pouring from their mouths, yup, we got zombies. WHY THE HELL DID I OPEN MY BIG FAT MOUTH!?

Okay, no need to panic, I still have my Molotovs and my cigar, I can take out the whole group with one well placed throw. I take out my cigar and light it on a burning pine bough. I use it to light a Molotov and bounce it in my hand a few times.

Wait. Why didn't I just light it on the tree? Eh, screw it. I throw the bottle. It flies through the air and smashes on a convenient tree branch that I hadn't even seen, covering the shambling corpses with burning alcohol. YES!

Aaand, they don't seem particularly bothered by that. It would appear that I might need something that burns hotter than alcohol for these guys. Something to look into in the future, I suppose. Maybe some grenades. Let's see, what were the ingredients for gunpowder again? Carbon, ammonia, nitrates…Oh wait, I still have zombies to deal with.

And they're coming towards me. HOLY SHIT THEY'RE RUNNING! WHY DIDN'T ANYBODY SAY THEY COULD RUN!? FLEE IN TERROR!

"AAAAAAAAAUGH!" I risk a look behind me as I run for my life. Why did I have to set them on fire!?

I run past a blue haired guy with a pointed butterfly mask. I should warn him. "Run! Flaming zombies!" Yeah, that should be sufficient.

The masked avenger, um, stranger runs by me. I suppose he didn't want to deal with undead that were on fire either. Oh, wait, that means they're following me again.

…

Crap.

Running, running, running, oh, hey, one fell over and turned to black smoke, I suppose the fire's actually doing something. Now, if only I could breath!

I finally lose the horde of burning zombies. …Only to run into another group, this one with about five of the shambling corpses. I don't want a repeat of the last time, so I pull out my hatchet and scream obscenities at them. They brandish swords and axes and yell back.

…Yeah, no. I'm running.

Oh God, can't breathe, need to stop. I skid to a halt, right next to a dandy with a ruffled cravat and long, shoulder-blade length light-blue hair. Oh hey, he has a bow.

"Greetings, I am Virion, archest of archers, and lover of the—"

I grab Virion by his ruffled lapels and shake him violently. "Less talky, more shooty Ruffles!"

Laughter from behind makes me let the dizzy Virion go. I turn around to see a red-armored redhead woman on a cavalier's horse. "Hah! That's what I've been calling him!" She throws a javelin at one of the shambling horrors. "I'm Sully. I'm a Shepherd."

I brace my hands on my knees as I try to catch my breath. "Sparky. Outrealmer and Pyromaniac extraordinaire. Pleasure!"

I watch as Virion and Sully start making short work of the horde. Despite the archer's womanizing ways and the cavalier's tomboy attitude, they work well together. I pull out a Cocktail and briefly consider making the situation either better or worse. Seeing the spooked look in the eye's of Sully's brown Percheron (Yeah, I'm a guy. I know horses. So?), I decide not to make the problem worse.

Finishing up the last of the undead, I watch as Virion pulls a rose from…somewhere and sniffs it. "I am a thing of beauty!" Y'know, his accent sounds a lot like a Frenchman's.

I watch Sully ride over, shaking zombie bits off her lance. "Man that was too easy. I kinda feel sorry for the dastards." She looks worried. Why does she look worried? "Hey, you okay?" Yeah, why wouldn't I be?

Oh hey, everything's gone dizzy. Oh look, dirt. Why am I in the dirt? Ooh, everything's all spinny.

Somebody stop the world please, I'd like to get off.

Oh, hey, there's Sully. Hi Sully.

"Shit, he's got a chest wound that's reopened! Ruffles! Get my saddlebags, get me satchel with the vulneraries!"

I'm tired. I'm just...gonna close my eyes for a bit.

"Stay with me, dammit!"

I'm not going anywhere, I'm just going to take a quick…nap…

**AN: Well, here's the second chapter of Pyromania. Hope you like it.**

**Landser03: Don't worry; things will slow down a bit once we get to Ylissal. As for the name, it's a nickname that I enjoy, and I don't particularly like to spread my name to strangers on the internet. Call it paranoia, but I was taught to never give out personal information online. Facebook doesn't count.**

**Gunlord500: Thank you.**


	3. Torture, or Training?

Ooh, my mouth feels like it's full of cotton. Old, moldy cotton mixed with mothballs. I'm lying down again, wrapped in furs. I open my eyes.

Blue skies, green trees. I'm on a stretcher. I look up. Horse butt. Except this time, it belongs to Sully's horse. Freddy's horse is likely a destrier, bred solely for war. Sully's seems more like a courser. I look left. Lissa's chatting animatedly with Robin. Something about frogs. I look to my right. Chrom is talking with Ruffles—erm—Virion in hushed tones. Don't know what that's about. Freddy is right behind them leading his horse on foot. His head's on a swivel, looking for threats I guess.

Y'know, this stretcher's kind of comfortable, the way it sways slightly in time to the gait of Sully's horse. It's rather soothing. I think I'll go back…to…

* * *

><p>Oh, someone turn the sun off please.<p>

Anybody?

Ah, fine.

I open my eyes. Everything is blurry. I must not be wearing my glasses. I rub my face, hoping to get the sleep out of my eyes—hold it! I take off the glasses that have been on my face the entire time. Everything is so clear. I put my glasses back on. Everything is blurry. I take them off. Clear. Blurry. Clear. Blurry. Clear. Huh. Weird, but convenient.

I sit up, and…it doesn't hurt. I'm stiff as all get out, but I don't hurt! I take in the room. Wooden walls, window over there to the right, simple wooden door: conclusion; I don't know where I am. I lean forward.

Wait. Something is missing. I look down.

What. The. Hell. My stomach is missing. More specifically, my Buddha belly, so to speak. I now have a flat stomach under all these bandages. Which is weird. Shouldn't I have a flap of skin just hanging there until it regains elasticity? I'm no expert, but I do remember seeing people on the internet who had lost a ton of weight who were like that. Hold up. I check the rest of my body. I seem to have lost practically all my body fat. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm still chubby, but I seem to have lost at least somewhere between twenty and fifty pounds. Which brings to mind this one question: how?

The door opening interrupts my repeated disbelieving poking of my belly. I look up to see a girl in pink riding clothes with long, curly blonde hair and a pink parasol. "Well, you're awake. I suppose it was inevitable." She strides to the bed and places the back of her hand on my forehead. "Well, you're not feverish."

She pauses. "Oh, how rude of me, I have yet to introduce myself. I am Maribelle, troubadour and daughter of the Duke of Themis. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" She holds out her hand.

I look at her hand for a moment. Oh, what the hell. Taking the offered hand, I kiss the back. Now, how did I introduce myself to Sully again? Oh yeah. "I am Sparky, my dear lady, Outrealmer and Pyromaniac extraordinaire. And I must say, the pleasure is all mine."

Maribelle blushes, however slightly. "Oh, my. Your countenance is certainly that of a commoner, but you've the manners of a noble."

I smile. "Though common I may be; I do try, milady. Might I inquire to the identity of who nursed me back to health?"

"Oh, yes. I may have brought you back to full health, but it was my dearest Lissa who initially saved you life."

That sounds vaguely familiar. "You know Lissa?"

Maribelle nods. "Oh yes. We've been the best of friends since our childhood together. I must say that I am grateful that you would take a life-threatening injury to prevent harm to my Lissa."

I smile, warmly I hope. "It was my honor. And I must say, you did a magnificent job fixing me up. But I do have to ask; how is it that I've lost weight and had my eyesight fixed?"

The noblewoman smiles. Hey, being polite pays off. "Well, simply put, healing staves work by focusing the wielder's magic and will to speed up the body's natural healing. Should the wound be beyond the body's normal means of healing, the healing staff uses the body's magic instead. You had a severe wound and have so little magic in your body that you were forced to burn fat to create the necessary energy for the healing staff to work."

"I see." Well, that answers one question. Unfortunately, now that I don't have as much body fat, taking another ax to the ribs might result in my body cannibalizing muscle mass the next time. Hopefully there won't be a next time. "And my eyes?"

"Occasionally, healing staves will fix degraded vision, but it is not something we healers try to do on purpose. The pain is said to be excruciating. You were lucky to be unconscious for it."

Sounds like it. "Thank you for explaining that to me. May I ask when I'll be allowed to leave?"

"Not until tomorrow. Also, Prince Chrom wishes to speak with you. I'll let him know you're awake." With that, Maribelle left.

Well, I wasn't expecting it to go like that. Maribelle was a lot less frosty than I thought she'd be, given what I remember of her introduction to Robin in the game. I guess the whole manners and politeness thing did the trick.

Before long, Chrom walked in. "Hey Sparky, how're you feeling?"

I stretch. "Not that bad, actually, and pleasantly surprised."

He looks at me critically. "Yes, you do seem to be healthier."

"So." I look at Chrom. Something's up, I can tell that much. "What's up?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to join the Shepherds. You fought well, if not unconventionally against those Plegian bandits."

Joining the Shepherds. Hm. On the one hand, I'm likely to be in bodily danger if I join. On the other, if I join, I'll be less likely to be killed in the initial Plegian invasion. Also, I'd be able to indulge in my burgeoning pyromania with them. What the heck. "Sure, why not? The Plegians are your neighbors who hold a grudge against Yllise for your father's actions, right?"

Chrom stares at me. "How did know that?"

Oh. Whoops. Well, Chrom already knows I'm an outrealmer. Might as well tell the truth. Sort of. "Chrom, in my realm, we have a fictional series called Fire Emblem that tells the story of this realm and a few others. The first volume is about the hero king Marth, but that one was only released in one country. There was a whole bunch of others about other eras of this world, but the last one details this era."

"Wait, are you telling me you know everything that's going to happen?" Chrom is looking pretty frantic and bewildered. I think.

I shake my head. "Sadly, no. I do remember a few details, like the fact that your father went on a crusade, but it's been so long since I read the story that I cannot remember much. Most of what I do remember only comes to me once it's happening." I shrug helplessly. "Sorry. I'll still warn you about things if I remember in time though."

Chrom smiles. "Thanks Sparky. I'll try not to bug you about it."

I smile back. "Thanks."

"I'll introduce you to the rest of the Shepherds tomorrow, alright?"

* * *

><p>I'd like to tell you how my first interactions with the Shepherds went, but Vaike, the lovable idiot, decided to go spike the apple cider we all had at dinner with the strongest alcohol made in Ylisse. So, we all got rip-roaring drunk, and now I can't remember a blasted thing and have a hangover the size of Hanover. All I know is that I started hugging everybody in my stupor. I can't help but feel that I forgot something important that I was warned about though.<p>

Light stabs into my eyelids as thunder pierces my eardrums. Why must everything be so loud?

**"RISE AND SHINE, RECRUIT! IT'S TIME FOR PHYSICAL TRAINING!"**

My head throbs as I try to tune out Frederick's booming voice. I curl up into my bedcovers, trying to go back to sleep.

COLD! I shoot up, seeing Frederick in his armor with a dripping, empty bucket in hand. **"You have half an hour to eat before I expect you to report to the training field!"**

I watch as Frederick leaves. Shortly thereafter, I hear a splash and feminine screaming from down the hall. I thinks it's Robin, but the world hurts to much to tell.

* * *

><p>I remember what they were trying to warn me about last night. I always thought Freddy's Fanatical Fitness Hour was a thing made up by fanfiction writers. I was wrong! I was so horribly wrong!<p>

…

Somebody save me!

* * *

><p>My limbs…are jelly. Why? I think I just croaked that out loud. Oh look, there's Freddy.<p>

"I'm surprised you managed to keep going this long. Robin collapsed about half an hour ago."

Yeah well, I've always been too stubborn for my own good. At least I can listen to Frederick talk without the cymbals crashing in my head anymore.

Frederick straightens up from where he was bending over me and starts walking off. "Well, time for lunch. We will pick back up tomorrow morning."

Tomorrow?! Somebody, kill me now!

I hear Robin groaning next to me. "He's a monster."

Tell me about it.

* * *

><p>A few days later, word came down to us that the Ylissian council had dubbed the undead threat the "Risen." Seriously, it took them that long to do that? We're doomed.<p>

Fortunately for me and Robin, Frederick went with Chrom to the council meeting as his guard, sparing us from the Fanatical Fitness Hour. Robin decided to spend her free morning hours in the library, doing tactician things. Me, I went shopping for a few…ingredients.

I had decided, upon Frederick's failure to teach me to use any of the weapons they had (the pantsing thing was totally not my fault), that if I was going to fight, I was going to do it my way: with science!

...And a little bit of madness.

So, after placing a custom order with a potter, another custom order at a clockmaker's, and an order for sulfur from a tannery, I went to a blacksmith to see if they had anything I'd need. To my glee, they had plenty of charcoal and saltpeter. Now all I needed was aluminum, iron-oxide, and magnesium.

Surprisingly, the blacksmith I inquired at actually knew where I could get aluminum. Apparently, some idiot had sent them a shipment of aluminum ores instead of the iron ores they wanted.

"So, you're just going to send it back?" I step back as the blacksmith pulls a red hot length of metal out of the forge and douses it.

He looks at me through the resulting steam. "Yup. Aluminum is good fer makin' and enhancin' magic staves, but we ain't got no use fer it. Dunno what the idjits were thinkin'." He had an interesting combination of a Slavic and country-boy accent.

I smile. "How much would it take to get you to smelt the aluminum and grind it down into a coarse powder?"

The blacksmith pauses, his thick, bushy eyebrows rising towards the top of his bald head. "What chew want aluminum powder fer?"

My smile possibly goes a bit insane. "For science."

A slightly creeped out look enters the blacksmith's eyes. "I see." I can see the gears in his head grinding as he thinks. "300 gold pieces a pound. Next thing you'll be tellin' me, ye'll be wantin' powdered rust too."

There is definitely insanity present in my smile now. "Oh, most definitely."

"Uhuh, of course yeh do. 300 fer that as well then."

I try to school my smile to something less disconcerting, hopefully anyways. Social interaction has never been my thing after all. "It's a deal then, just send the shipment and the bill to the Shepherds."

The blacksmith nods and calls over an apprentice wearing thick metal goggles. "Cancel the return of the aluminum shipment and take it to the smelter." The apprentice salutes and leaves for the back. The blacksmith turns back to me. "Is this going to be a regular order?"

"Most likely."

He puts his large, calloused hand before me. "In that case, I'd like to be knowing the name of my business partner. I am Gru the smith."

I take his hand, doing my best not to wince as Gru does his best to crush my hand. "People call me Sparky. While we're on the subject of powdered metals, would you know where I can get my hands on powdered magnesium?"

Gru smiles as he lets go of my poor, abused hand. "Aye, that I do. There's a shop down the way run by a merchant named Anna. She's got a little bit of everything in her shop, so if anyone has what yer lookin' fer, she'll have it."

"Thanks." I start to head out the door as Terrence tells me the name of the shop.

"Shop's name is Trickster's Paradise. Yeh can't miss it." As I leave the shop, I can hear him bellowing out orders to his minions.

Soon enough, I find the shop. Gru wasn't kidding when he said you can't miss it. I don't think I've ever seen reds and yellows that bright before. I stand there for I don't know how long before I finally go in.

A bell rings to announce my entrance as I open the door. I hear a pleasant voice from the back. "I'll be out in a minute!"

Okay then, I'll just browse. She's got some interesting things on the shelves…Oh. My. God. There's just no way…

"Can I help you?"

I jump in surprise and pull my attention away from the thing on the shelf. She's very attractive, with long red hair and pouty smile, and is about half a head taller than my height of 5'10". I idly notice that she has a very nice figure under her red and yellow outfit. She puts a hand out. "Hi, I'm Anna!"

"Sparky." I reach out and take what I was looking at off the shelf. I swallow with my suddenly dry mouth. "Whe-where did you get this?"

Anna looks down in slight confusion. In my hands, is an honest-to-God gas mask. Not the kind that would have been developed in the medieval ages, but the kind of modern-day gas mask that one could find in a military surplus store. After a moment, comprehension dawns on Anna's face. "Oh~. I have a sister who runs an Outrealm Gate, and every so often, something from a different realm will pop out. She usually sends them to me to sell in my store."

I look at the mask then back up at Anna. "Do you have anything else like this?"

"Yep. I keep most of it in the back. Taking my hand, she leads me to the back storage room. "I'll just leave you here to browse. Let me know if you need anything."

With that, I am left alone, staring in awe at the things she has back here. I go down an aisle of the miniature warehouse and gape and gawk at the things there. I see a phaser from Star Trek on one shelf, without power. On another, I find what appear to be half a lightsaber and a blaster ammunition pack. On yet another shelf I find a UNSC MA5B Assault Rifle. Sadly, there is no ammunition, and a neat, melted line bisects the barrel, almost separating the Assault Rifle into two halves.

Down the second aisle, I finally find something useful: a modern military helmet, complete with flip-down visor, most likely from the German Army or GSG-9 from the shape and black coloring. Picking it up, I decide that I'd take it, if not to protect my head better than the helmets they have here, then to have something to remind me of home. Putting it on my head, I continue down the aisle where I find a selection of clothes that had fallen through the Outrealm Gate.

The variety of clothes there was amazing. The first thing I saw was a Sprawl Security Suit from Dead Space 2. To my disappointment, however, it was only most of a suit, as something had torn out the suit electronics, and the blood-stained reinforced cloth had for the most part rotted through at some point. Still, there were portions of the cloth that could be salvaged, along with the armor plating. I put it aside.

I went through the entire rack of clothing, finding several things of interest (though who would wear fetish-worthy plate armor that left the belly and cleavage exposed was beyond me). There were a good number of incomplete battle fatigues and armors that I ended up salvaging as well; such as the breastplate from the melted fatigues of a Kasrkin Stormtrooper and the utility belt off some ruined clone trooper armor. I also found several examples of casual clothes that I decided to keep, as the linen shirt that had replaced my destroyed cotton shirt was itchy, and my jeans were starting to smell.

To my pleasant surprise, there was also a complete set of an American firefighter's Personal Protective Equipment. Perfect for what I had in mind and a perfect base for my fighting gear. Taking my haul in my arms, I head for the door.

The bulky, tarpaulin-covered object behind the door escapes my notice as I exit.

**AN: Well, another chapter of Pyromania. Hope you all enjoy. Anybody who can guess what it is I am gathering ingredients for gets a cybercookie for each correct guess.**

**As for the tarp-covered object, please refer to Chekov's Gun on Tvtropes. And if you absolutely must guess at what's under said tarp, send it to me via PM. I don't want to give away the surprise for later on.**


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